


Side effects

by embeer2004



Series: The fox [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sentinel elements, Side Effects, just a bit, trial of the grasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 19:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004
Summary: Regis was asked by a worried Cirilla to help Avallac’h, who’d returned to the world of the Aen Seidhe seeking aid to deal with the havoc that had been wrought on his nervous system.





	Side effects

**Author's Note:**

> Follow-up on The fox and the wolves  
*  
And uhm, yeah. I was really curious if this pairing could work? At least I got it out of my system now ;)

_Ciri  
_  
Kelpie trotted through the gates of Corvo Bianco and eagerly headed towards the stables she shared with Roach. Ciri made sure that her mare was well taken care of before hurrying up the steps to the villa Geralt now called home, and went inside.  
  
The moment she opened the door though she was halted in her tracks as she noticed the state of the living room. The large table that stood in the middle had been knocked on its side, and the plates and decorative pieces that had been on top of it now lay scattered over the floor.  
  
Worry gripped her at the sight and she stilled, cocking her head, listening. “Geralt?” She walked closer, trying to find a clue of some kind. B.B and Marlene had gone to Beauclair’s market and weren’t expected back yet, but Geralt had mentioned something about doing some work in and around the house.  
  
Ciri’s eyes were drawn towards the corner of the fallen table and she could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. _Blood._ “Geralt!”  
  
The door to Geralt’s bedroom opened and a familiar voice spoke calmly. “Hush, Zirael, _Cirilla_. Geralt is in here, come and see for yourself.”  
  
Avallac’h stood in the doorframe, a pinched look on his face, quite unlike his usual composed self. He looked tired, paler than usual. It had been years since she’d last seen him and he looked quite different…  
  
“Avallac’h? What are you doing here? And in Geralt’s bedroom?” With a few quick strides she made her way into the bedroom and she gasped seeing Geralt on the bed, his eyes closed. “What happened?”  
  
A blush appeared on her mentor’s cheeks and he looked to the bed, a guilty look on his face. Then he seemed to remember himself and he straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back as he met her gaze directly. “An unfortunate accident. I assure you that Geralt will be all right.”  
  
Narrowing her eyes, Ciri knelt down next to the bed and gently touched Geralt’s brow, trailing her fingers upwards in his white hair. There was a colourful bruise on his temple and it had bled at some point, going by the scabs already covering it; the source of the blood stain on the table. At her touch a slight moan rose from her father surprise’s lips and for a moment she thought he would wake, but then Geralt quieted again and he lay still.  
  
Smiling wryly, Ciri stroked her thumb over his brow. “Tell me what happened, Avallac’h,” she demanded quietly, “the short story please, for now. You can tell me all about what you’ve been up to since we last saw each other when Geralt is awake and well.”  
  
Shuffling until he stood at the foot of the bed, Avallac’h nodded. “In short, I wished to visit you and see if you were doing well.”  
  
Hmm. Ciri had a feeling that the elf was speaking true, yet he was not telling her everything. “It’s been three years, why now?” Looking over, she saw the clench of the elf’s jaw and – was that _shame _in his eyes?  
  
Sighing, Avallac’h’s shoulders hunched, and the look of defeat he radiated was so completely wrong on her mentor that she was concerned what it meant. “Additionally, I have travelled to your world in search of aid. In particular, the kind that likely only your witchers or perhaps Lady Yennefer could provide, given as they…” he trailed off, tilting his head, and his gaze turned unfocused.  
  
The witchers and Yennefer… The only reason Avallac’h would seek any of them out for _aid _would be because of… “The Trial of the Grasses. Yennefer mentioned of the damage done to your nervous system…”  
  
“C-ciri?” Geralt’s low voice rang through the room. He inhaled deeply, no doubt trying to rouse himself from his stupor.  
  
“Yes, Geralt?”  
  
It took him a few tries, but then the witcher’s eyes opened and he raised a hand to his head, groaning as he struggled to sit up.  
  
“I apologise, Geralt,” Avallac’h told him while she helped up Geralt, “you startled me and I could not control my reaction.”  
  
“Hnng, startled _me_, didn’t see me blasting aard…” Geralt spoke quietly, doing that awful thing he did with his neck, producing cracking noises. He looked more amused than pissed off, so that at least meant he trusted Avallac’h’s words. Progress. The elf hadn’t made it easy to trust him, too much had happened for that. “Outside, _now_,” Geralt gritted out, rising from the bed and pointing towards the door.  
  
When they passed through the living room, Geralt’s eyes roved over it, taking in the destruction that had been wrought. He threw a half-hearted glare at Avallac’h before opening the front door, sweeping his arm out in a clear gesture for them to proceed before him. “Care to explain why you suddenly showed up _right behind me_?”  
  
Geralt led them over to the side porch and then leaned against the railing. Ciri sat down on the cushioned bench and patted the place next to her, an invitation. Whether Avallac’h took her up on it or not was his own choice.  
  
“As I had started explaining to Cirilla,” Avallac’h began, “after-”  
  
A loud metallic crash came from the yard and Geralt and Ciri both looked towards the stables in reflex. Ciri spotted the white and black cat hurriedly fleeing the scene of the crime, and Roach and Kelpie neighed, startled as well by the loud noises.  
  
“Avallac’h?” Geralt’s voice sounded surprised. “Avallac’h!”  
  
Turning back, Ciri couldn’t make sense of what she saw for a moment. Geralt knelt next to a trembling Avallac’h, reaching for his shoulder. The elf’s hands were clamped over his ears and his eyes were closed. He was breathing harshly and the twist of his lips spoke of an immense pain. And then, as if time slowed, Ciri saw him open his hand…  
  
She pulled on Geralt’s arm, drawing him from the elf’s side just before Avallac’h let loose a magic spell exactly where her father of surprise had been standing.  
  
“What the hell?!” Geralt shouted.  
  
Avallac’h actually _keened _and curled into a tight ball, his trembling growing worse.  
  
Ciri froze.  
  
Geralt stilled and Ciri saw realisation glimmering in his eyes. Patting her hand softly, he drew away from her and knelt next to the agitated elf, and from the way Geralt’s lips were moving she knew that he was speaking, yet too soft for her to make out. Then he raised his hand in the air and drew a pattern and she knew he’d just cast axii.  
  
Avallac’h stilled, and finally he opened his eyes and looked up at Geralt, nodding after what felt like several minutes. And it was only when he offered his hand that Geralt reached out to him in turn, willing to help him back on his feet.  
  
The moment they touched, Geralt gripped him firmly, ready to pull him up, and Avallac’h’s body jerked as though receiving a shock. His eyes rolled up to the back of his head and he collapsed in a limp heap.  
  
“Geralt?” Ciri asked, her voice quivering. Something was seriously wrong with her mentor.   
  
“Alive,” he answered her unvoiced question, his fingers hovering over the elf’s neck, uncertain. “You have any idea what’s going on here?”  
  
She started shaking her head, before remembering what Avallac’h had started to tell her, or, well, the deduction she’d made before both of them had been distracted by Geralt waking up. “He mentioned that he’s returned here, searching for aid. From what he said he wished to find either a witcher or Yennefer…”  
  
Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “He’d only need one of us-”  
  
“If it was a matter related to the Trial of the Grasses,” Ciri finished for him.  
  
“Want Regis to look at him,” Geralt started, “get his professional opinion as a barber surgeon. Elf travelled to another world for aid…”  
  
Ciri nodded, fully agreeing. First things first. Here outside they’d only draw attention. “Will you take him up to the guest room?”  
  
Geralt nodded. “Remember where Regis and Dettlaff live?”  
  
Ciri nodded again. “In Nazair, I remember. South from Rhys-Rhun, beyond lake Muredach.” She’d been there, once; she’d be able to blink in and out without any trouble.  
  
“Good.” Geralt seemed to ponder the situation for a moment before he drew a pattern in the air again, another axii, and then he picked up the unconscious elf and rose to his feet.  
  
Now this was a sight she’d never expected to see in her whole life, and it looked _wrong_. It made Avallac’h seem like…  
  
Like a mere mortal… all vulnerable and defenceless.  
  
“I’ll return as quick as I can,” she told him.  
  
And then she blinked.  
  
~*~  
  
_Regis  
_  
Breathing heavily, Regis clutched his chest as Cirilla let go of him.  
  
Portals, he really hated portals, and while this ‘blinking’ as Cirilla called it had a different mechanism behind it than conjuring a portal, the whole idea of magic being used to transport oneself from one end of the world to another was… distressing actually. **_Fear. Relief. _**  
  
**_Safe. Comfort. _**Dettlaff sent over their bond, very much aware of his emotional state.  
  
“He’s inside,” Cirilla told him, holding open the door, “Geralt’s taken him to the guest room upstairs.”  
  
Calming down, Regis nodded and followed her inside. **_Calm. _**He sent to Dettlaff, just to let him know that he was fine now.  
  
Cirilla and Geralt wouldn’t have asked him to come if it hadn’t been important, after all, and from what Cirilla had told him she was clearly worried for the Aen Saevherne. He would help, of course he would, if his abilities allowed to, that is.  
  
Regis frowned, seeing the table in the living room turned on its side, and his nostrils flared at the smell of blood. “Did Avallac’h injure himself during his fall?”  
  
Looking back over her shoulder, Cirilla shook her head and kept on walking. “This is from before, when Geralt startled him, it’s his blood.”  
  
He clenched his teeth. “Geralt’s?”  
  
Cirilla turned around and stopped, putting her hands on her hips as she looked at him with such an intensity… “Geralt apparently startled Avallac’h, who lashed out. He’s apologised, stating it was an accident. I believe him. You should have seen him, Regis, he looks exhausted and he’s not acting like the elf I have known during out travels. There’s something seriously wrong with him…”  
  
Regis nodded. There were hypotheses going off in his mind, but he was not here as a researcher, but as a barber surgeon. He would first see his patient and then diagnose the problem before determining the right treatment; if one could be given.  
  
The both of them quickly walked up the stairs and Regis was pleased to see Geralt again; it had been too long really. “Geralt,” he greeted quietly, walking over until he had a good view of the dark bruise on the witcher’s temple. He gently grasped Geralt’s chin and exerted merely the slightest of pressures, a gentle nudge to get Geralt to show him his injury.  
  
“Am fine, Regis,” Geralt told him, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s healing.” He nodded towards the bed. “Here’s your patient.”  
  
Nodding, Regis looked to the figure on the bed, the Aen Elle Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha, or Avallac’h. The fox.  
  
To his surprise, aquamarine eyes were dazedly staring upwards.  
  
“Avallac’h?” Geralt spoke quietly. “Summoned a friend, Regis, a barber surgeon. Like him to have a look at you.”  
  
The elf blinked and then jerked his chin down, a sharp nod.  
  
Geralt stood up from the chair and lightly clapped Regis’ shoulder, and there was warmth in his eyes.  
  
**_Love. Fondness. _**Oh, but he did love seeing his dear friend again.  
  
“Gonna leave you two alone,” Geralt said, going over to Cirilla, tapping her elbow, “if you need me, call, we’ll be outside.”  
  
Cirilla walked up to the bed and stared down at her mentor, and a wry look stole over her features. “Regis is a friend, you can trust him,” she told him, trying to catch his eyes. When their gazes met she smiled encouragingly at the elf and nodded, before turning around and following Geralt down the stairs.  
  
That just left him and Avallac’h.  
  
Sitting down in the chair Geralt had just vacated, Regis took in the elf’s state, seeing the marks of exhaustion in the pale and taut skin, even going by elven standards, and the hollows of his cheeks. There were lines around his eyes and a set to his mouth that Regis had seen many times before. “Are you in pain still? I can offer you an analgesic, if you allow it.”  
  
Avallac’h blinked slowly, turning his head to meet his gaze. “No more than usual these last few months,” he breathed, “I will manage. The spell I suffered earlier has passed.”  
  
Regis forced his face to remain neutral. “I always find it worrying when a person has learnt to deal with long-term pain, especially when it is not necessary.”  
  
The elf’s lips twisted. “What would you have me do? Medicate myself insensate, becoming utterly useless to my people? No, that was never an option.”  
  
“Do you know what ails you?”  
  
Avallac’h nodded. “Side effects… from the Trial of the Grasses.”  
  
Regis leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Side effects? And they only started a few months ago?”  
  
“Yes, side effects… Lady Yennefer has put in many hours and effort to get me to survive this witcher trial, yet despite her efforts I was left with a damaged nervous system. The side effects have grown worse since then, so… thirty months?”   
  
Regis huffed silently at the elf’s measure of time; calling thirty months a _few _months. He’d have expected Avallac’h to measure time in another manner, like most long-lived creatures did. Then again, it could get quite confusing when thinking of human and elven years, let alone vampire years…  
  
“Will you allow me to examine you?” Regis reached for the elf's hand, waiting for Avallac’h to close the final distance, before gently squeezing the tips of his fingers. "Can you feel that?"  
  
"Of course," Avallac'h gasped, his cheeks suddenly flushing a bright red, "there has been no deadening of my senses."  
  
Lifting an eyebrow, Regis wondered at the side effects, but he’d get there in a moment. Geralt and Yennefer had told him before that the elf's behaviour had changed drastically after the Trial of the Grasses. He was less distant, less formal and instead had shown empathy for the people around him.  
  
Avallac'h drew his hand back to his chest and lightly rubbed the tips of his fingers. His gaze was just a bit off, still dazed, and the blush had even spread to the tips of his ears.  
  
"Sensitive then, I assume from your reactions?" Regis asked.  
  
"Obviously," was the elf's terse reply, "and it is these kind of responses that make it difficult for me to continue as I had before.” Avallac'h waved his hand at his face. “I searched through all the information I could find, back in Tir ná Lia, but could not find a cure."  
  
Regis narrowed his eyes, if an Aen Saevherne could not even find a cure, what hope did he have? Well, he did have a witcher and sorceress on hand to fill in the gaps of missing information.  
  
The elf struggled to sit up and twisted so he sat right across from Regis on the bed, clutching at the sash wrapped around his waist. "The side effects have been slowly driving me to madness. My senses… one moment they are normal, if a bit sharper than they were before, and then there is an unexpected sound, or I’m not fully paying attention and then I am overwhelmed and I am in agony. And as of late, touch…" he trailed off, raising his hand to his eyes and examining it like he had never seen it before.  
  
Going through his satchel, Regis took out a bottle of his mandrake cordial. "There is no reversing this procedure; witchers and scientists have tried." A wry smile settled on his lips, remembering the story of Professor Moreau that Geralt had shared with him. That reminded him… "Your entrance startled my dear Geralt."  
  
Avallac'h straightened his back and glared at him, clasping his hands in front of him. "He startled _me_. I did not mean to knock him out, it was merely a reflex, if an unfortunate one in this instance." He sighed. “I am not looking for a cure, as I am well aware of the dangers of trying to reverse the genetic modifications forced on a living organism. No, I am looking for a way to _manage_ my situation, as not even meditation has not brought me any relief, not consistently, at least.” The elf closed his eyes and a pained look appeared on his face. “One moment I was listening to a zither playing a merry tune, mesmerised by its sound, and the next it felt like my head was being split apart. All of my senses have been like this. I cannot go on in this manner. I’d hoped that since this affliction was brought to me on this world, that the ones responsible for it might know of a way for me to handle this. I’d originally set out to contact Zirael, _Cirilla_, to see how she was doing and to ask her to plead my case to the witchers, but instead I ended up in Geralt’s living room.”  
  
Regis nodded. “Well, your portal was off by quite some distance. Cirilla was, after all, returning from exercising Kelpie.” He tilted his head. "As you must have realised, Geralt has undergone the same trial as you have, yet he was able to control his reactions, identifying you as a non-threat in time. Becoming more attuned with your senses, and learning to deal with your altered perception of the world around you, should become a paramount endeavour in order to avoid similar situations in the future." He handed Avallac’h the bottle, nodding towards it. "My own make, a very fine batch of mandrake cordial, if I do say so myself. "  
  
The elf’s eyes shone with equal measures of curiosity and wariness, but nevertheless he accepted the bottle and raised it to his lips, gasping for breath the moment he'd taken a sip. "My body feels overloaded with energy that I cannot shed through any means of exercise. I cannot stand to be touched, for it is either painful or…” Avallac’h swallowed heavily.  
  
Tapping the bottom of the bottle lightly, Regis lifted an eyebrow. “Or?”  
  
Avallac’h let his eyes drop. “Sexually arousing…” he said quietly, rubbing the tips of his fingers. “I _feel _things in a more extreme fashion than before, sense others’ emotions, yet my own physical reactions… I cannot control them. Thus, I started avoiding social gatherings… did everything I could to avoid being touched as I struggled to carry out the tasks Ge’els had demanded of me.”  
  
Regis blinked, uncertain how to process this new piece of information. They were all social creatures, humans, dwarves, elves and vampires; not being able to be touched in fear of either pain or arousal, to be denied such comfort, was a torture in and of itself. His eyes narrowed as he remembered Geralt’s stories years ago. The additional genes that were part of the trials, they were the cause of Avallac’h’s state. Well, then there was a way to handle this after all…  
  
He smiled, hiding his teeth more out of habit than a true need to not give himself away, this Aen Elle wouldn’t care what his species' affiliation was. "Witchers are trained from an early age to ignore certain impulses and to work on increasing others," he began vaguely. Unwillingly, his hands clenched into fists. From what Geralt had told him the conditioning young witchers underwent had been a horrible state of affairs. Denied to feel emotions, yet encouraged to hone their senses and ‘turn them on or off’ at will, as the situation called for. That last one is what the elf needed if he were to be able to live a relatively normal life.  
  
Avallac'h took another sip and held out the bottle; his eyes were shuttered, wary still. "How do you propose to achieve this?"  
  
Regis accepted the bottle from him and took a large sip, heartened at feeling the warmth that appeared in his chest from the strong liquor. "Your body must be taught these exact skills. To, in effect, turn on, or to switch off your senses, and to find an optimal balance in between that provides the highest sense of awareness to you without forming a distraction. To be able to sweep your environment with all your senses in just a reflex before bringing them to this acceptable level.”  
  
The elf looked thoughtful for a moment and held out his hand, looking pointedly at the bottle. “A fine-tuning of my senses.”  
  
Regis nodded and handed over the mandrake again. “Indeed. Geralt’s continuously doing it, and he too has to deal with… with _touch._”  
  
Avallac’h took another gulp, a larger one this time, and the elf’s tongue quickly flicked out to lick up a small trail that had escaped from between his lips. “This is good stuff.”  
  
Allowing his teeth to show this time, Regis grinned full out, delighted at the compliment. Eyes roving over the elf’s form, he was pleased to see that, while the blush now ran down from Avallac’h’s cheeks to his neck, disappearing in his robe, the elf’s eyes had cleared up some, no longer dazed as before when he’d touched him.  
  
“Tell me, vampire,” Avallac’h raised an eyebrow, as if proposing a dare, “are the stories true?”  
  
What stories? Regis perked up, intrigued and then surprised. So the elf _knew_.  
  
“In my world, vampires are said to be exquisite lovers…” Avallac’h continued, a dreamy look appearing in his eyes. “Though they are only part of stories, fantasies in my world. The so-called dead, newly arisen…”  
  
“Hmmm, I have a suspicion that my mandrake cordial has started to affect you, for this is not the direction I had imaged our conversation to stray to, but I shall answer your question nonetheless: I can assure you that my kind, while not bound by the physical rules of this world, are quite alive and are not, as you mention the _dead, newly arisen_.” Regis shuddered. How on earth would zombie necrophages be a turn-on for anyone? How would them making _love_ even work?  
  
“As I said, they’re just fantasies, forget I mentioned it,” Avallac’h sighed, and there was a wistful look on his face.  
  
Did he read this right? Surely not… Approaching slowly, Regis knelt down before the elf, drawing attention onto himself.  
  
There was _desire_ in those eyes, now that he was looking for it, it was as clear as day. Avallac’h’s eyes had no problem tracking him, hardly inebriated enough to be a cause of concern, yet they had softened since the start of their conversation, and the desire, the yearning in them was now fully revealed.  
  
A strange fluttering feeling flit through his belly at the sight.  
  
What Avallac’h needed was help in fine-tuning his senses. Geralt could certainly help, give his own input on how he handled himself, yet Regis too had an extensive amount of experience in this regard. Vampires, after all, had such keen senses, even sharper than an elf’s he’d learned. And it had been so long for him as well, indulging in carnal pleasures…  
  
“Tell me, Avallac’h,” Regis started, offering the elf his hand, “would you accept my offer to aid you in handling your senses? I can teach you much, yet if my aid should lack in any way I believe Geralt would try to help instead.”  
  
Regis felt Avallac’h’s fingers drawing various patterns on the back of his hand, so light, yet he could easily feel it through the material of his glove.  
  
“I’ll accept your aid,” Avallac’h murmured, “and your company…” Swallowing heavily, he turned Regis’ hand up and carefully stroked over the tips of his fingers, avoiding the sharp nails. It felt… not unpleasant. Far from it, in fact.  
  
He curled his fingers around Avallac’h’s wandering ones, stilling his movements.  
  
The elf shuddered at the unexpected contact, and Regis could easily see his pupils blowing wide open.  
  
~*~  
  
_Avallac’h  
_  
He was mesmerised by the soft skin under his fingers, the soft tones with which Regis spoke and the power emanating from his harmless-looking form. This man, a higher vampire he was sure, had listened without pulling away; had not scoffed or laughed at his plight as he had feared would happen. He should have known that any friend of Cirilla and Geralt would not display such loathsome reactions.  
  
Did Cirilla know about his plight? She’d correctly guessed the source of the problem for which he had been seeking aid, just how much did she know of witchers and trials and _side effects_?  
  
The mandrake cordial was warming him up from the inside, softening the world around him just enough that he managed to relax his body. The vampire’s aura was very soothing, stilling his restless energy, and he did not mind basking in Regis’ calm presence for a while longer. Calm, yet _intoxicating. _He hadn’t felt like this _ever _and he knew this effect couldn’t be achieved by just the few sips of mandrake cordial he’d consumed.  
  
After all, the one time he’d drank himself into a stupor to dull his senses they had gone haywire instead.  
  
Avallac’h wiggled his fingers from where they were still captured in Regis’ grasp, wondering at the fact that this was the longest he’d been able to stand someone touching him, ever since the trials.  
  
Regis’ unnatural dark eyes were drawn to the base of his neck, yet whether it was because the vampire thought of drinking from him, or because of the red flush that Avallac’h just _knew _had spread towards his chest he had no idea. “I can teach you through means expected to be both extremely pleasant, and highly effective, on how to re-master your own body.”  
  
Feeling his eyebrows crawl up his forehead, Avallac’h cocked his head. “Extremely _pleasant_ and highly effective?” That sounded intriguing.  
  
The vampire nodded, a merry twinkle in his eyes. “I believe that now, while you are in such a relaxed state, is an excellent time to receive your first lesson and to give you what you so clearly desire.”  
  
Avallac’h’s eyes drew to Regis’ neck and he licked his lips, focusing on the smell coming from the vampire. He couldn’t specify exactly what it was, but it made him want to bury his nose against his pulse point and find out whether Regis tasted as good as he smelled. “Yes… please…” And with just a thought he willed away his own clothes, revealing himself to the vampire before him.  
  
Regis’ eyes shone with admiration as they roved over his form, paying extra attention to his tattoos, and then he misted up in a blue-grey fog, leaving his clothes behind, and swirled towards him, touching his naked flesh with such a light touch that Avallac’h shivered at the tickling sensation. Then the vampire materialised on the bed, kneeling right next to him.  
  
“Sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch,” Regis started, fingers hovering over the markings on his chest, “each of these senses can be tuned. Imagine an oil lamp for each of them, one with a dial on its side to control the flame. How far the flames are dialled up right now depends on your perception of them, the strength of the flame correlates with the sensitivity of your sense.”  
  
Avallac’h leaned in, causing Regis’ fingers to touch his skin. He imagined the five oil lamps and mentally placed little cards next to them to mark which lamp counted for what sense. From his current pleasant state he imagined them giving off a pleasant warm light. “And then?” He reached up his own hand, stroking it over the vampire’s side and frowning as he felt something he hadn’t expected.  
  
Regis’ reaction was instant. He flushed and gasped harshly, pulling away and reaching up a stalling hand. “That…” he said with a tremble, “is _extremely _sensitive.” He breathed in a few times, and then his eyes turned thoughtful and he seemed to have made a decision, as the next moment he returned to his side, reaching for both of his hands. “Now, for the first lesson you need to focus on adjusting the flame for touch, and you need to increase it until you can touch me there again without evoking such a response from me.”  
  
Avallac’h frowned. “Can you not control your own lamps?”  
  
The vampire smiled wryly. “I can, but I had not anticipated you to touch me right _there _yet, and even with my own lamp nearly completely dulled, my vestigial patagium remains extremely sensitive, so please tread carefully.”  
  
Nodding, Avallac’h dialled his flame for touch up as high as he could stand and then he slowly reached for Regis’ side again, using an extremely light touch in order not to hurt either of them. He was barely touching the vampire’s side, yet he could feel the warmth radiating from what he had first thought to be cool skin, and slowly, carefully, he moved his hand back to that thin line he’d felt earlier.  
  
Regis swallowed loudly and his chest heaved, but this time he managed to stay still. “Good…” he panted, “very good.”  
  
Smirking, Avallac’h trailed his hand down Regis’ side, following the vestigial membrane all the way down to his hip and wondering where it ended. He was determined to find out for himself ere this lesson was over.  
  
Regis’ hands came up, but he stilled himself before he could touch his shoulders and it took Avallac’h a moment too long to determine that it was because his own sense of touch was still dialled all the way up and the vampire didn’t want to hurt him.  
  
“Please…” Regis whispered, and Avallac’h took pity on him, withdrawing his hand, turning his flame for touch just a bit lower and instead reaching up for the back of the vampire’s neck.  
  
“Thank you,” Avallac’h breathed, for this man had bestowed him with such a gift. He pressed his lips to Regis’, and when there was no pain he licked the soft skin, willing those lips to open, and the moment they did he slipped in his tongue in order to find out for himself just what the vampire tasted like.  
  
Regis slowly lay down on the bed and Avallac’h followed him, playing around with his dial for touch until it felt _just right _and then he splayed his hands wide over Regis’ chest as he climbed up on the vampire’s lap, leaning down to deepen their kiss.  
  
This time Regis’ own hands did come up to grasp his hips, carefully at first, and oh so light, but when he realised that he was fine he increased his pressure and stroked up, trailing light fingers along his side, up his neck and all the way to the tips of his ears, making Avallac’h’s skin tingle wherever he touched. He refused to dial down his flame, though. Finally, after so long, words could not express how much he enjoyed being touched in this manner, if he ever did.  
  
“I have a feeling…” Regis said when his mouth was released, tracing the marks on his belly, “that you’re a prodigious learner.”  
  
Bending over, Avallac’h jerked his hips, and the both of them breathed in sharply at the sensation. Avallac’h smirked; in order obtain the utmost control of his senses, he should try all the variations he could, and this vampire beneath him was extremely accommodating in letting him experiment. “I am Aen Saevherne,” he told him, “that should be obvious.”  
  
Regis laughed and bucked up, grasping his hands and pulling them down to his sensitive sides again, a clear invitation. “Prove it,” he grinned.  
  
Narrowing his gaze, Avallac’h tenderly stroked the vampire’s patagium, watching intently as Regis gasped and his cheeks coloured a dark red, no doubt mirroring his own state. “Oh, I shall…”  
  
**The end**

**Author's Note:**

> And the fun thing is that after this, Ciri and Geralt come in and Geralt just knows what’s been going on upstairs and he’s all like: let’s go to the market, need to get some stuff. XD  
*  
The vestigial patagium is borrowed from TrueTatto's headcanon; it's such a good element.  
*  
To clarify - the Sentinel elements are from the TV series which revolves around a sentinel who has heightened senses after spending a long time in the jungle, and a guide who teaches him to handle them and is the sentinel's anchor for a lot of stuff... Hearing going off the scale? Focus on my heartbeat... that kinda stuff.


End file.
